Clonely Saints
by Skeva
Summary: How many years had gone by since I was trapped inside this icy tomb? A decade, a century? Would I be forever tormented to stare at Abe's desperate expression with a guilty one of my own? He was going to say he loved me... and there was no joy in knowing it. Continuance of Clone High's season finale.
1. Prologue

_The bed was set in the middle, my fellow students circling it like predator does to prey. A flustered look arose from my best friend's face. I had to explain._

_"Abe, it's not—" _

_My words were inaudible. _

_My lover spoke up from beside me, announcing to everyone how it was all so unexpected. The chanted song of my peers continued nonchalantly. How was it that everyone could speak but me?_

_My eyes tried to look away from the face I used to love so dearly. That I still love to this day. There was surprise, as well as obvious sadness. I felt so exposed. He held disappointment, confusion… hurt. I had no further motivation to call myself a saint._

_"But Joan," Abe started, "I love-"_

* * *

How many years have gone by since I was trapped inside this icy tomb? A decade, a century? Will I be forever tormented to stare at Abe's desperate expression with a guilty one of my own?

My brain lost function long ago. I don't know what to think anymore. Hallucinations play occasionally and some days, only some, can I see a shadow promising freedom from outside the small window on the door. I put all my hope in that illusion, but in that miniscule amount of sanity I have left I know that it alone would never free us.

I hope for fire, damnit. A fire burning below a wooden pole in which I'd be tied to. A fire to provide me with warmth and closure. If only that fire were here… this would all be over.

_"But Joan, I love-"_

If I can still flinch I would. Was he going to say my name? Cleo's? Even Gandhi's? No. He doesn't even have to finish the statement for me to know it was my name. He loves me. He loves the clone of Joan of Arc. There is no joy in knowing it.

I suddenly hear a sharp 'crack' from my frozen solid ears. The first actual sound I hear in years, other than the light swooshing noises of the circulating frigid air. Crack, crack crack. It is wonderful! Are we being saved? I try to fashion a look of happiness on my face for Abe, who stares only with desperation back at me. I am getting so sick of that expression.

_Crack, crack, crack._

We will all be freed!

_Crack, crack, crack._

And everything will be back to normal!

_Crack, crack, crack._

But everything goes black.

* * *

**_Author's__ Note_**

_Hey bros, and welcome to my very first FanFiction! Should I just inform you that over time this may develop into an M rated sort of thing, due to it being, well, Clone High. Anyway, this will probably be the shortest chapter of the whole story, due to it just being the prologue. I'll be updating very soon, though, so stay tuned. ;)_


	2. New Beginnings

**Chapter 2**

I am about as clueless as a fish in the desert.

Arising to the familiar 'bump' my head experiences as it clashes into Cleo's ceiling reminds me of the hell I went through even before getting frozen in the meat locker. I sigh. My eyes slowly try to adjust to the light, but no attempts I make shake the blurry vision away. I expect more pain in my body after years of stiffness and probably frostbite, but it's like nothing had ever happened. My head rests on the ceiling rigidly as I release the weight of my body from my arms and stretch them out. I feel… normal.

The bed shakes as I blindly reposition my body so I can go down the ladder. I am sure to use gentle steps as so I won't fall. My legs wobble slightly as my feet completely touch the ground, but I hold the ladder as a crutch in case it goes any further than that. My mind tries to calculate who may have any idea of what is going on, but it gives me a headache and I move on with my thoughts.

Cleo… is my nemesis.

Abe is my… friend.

Gandhi is my friend.

I slowly repeat everything about my life in my mind until I feel I can appropriately grasp the situation.

JFK is a… lover.

Scudworth is a sociopath.

Abe is… just a friend.

My brain replays as many moments as it can as I try to determine what relations I've had with anyone else. It's impossible to ignore the many names floating around in my head. I remember Julius, Catherine, and even Van Gogh. I remember Mr. Butlertron. I always thought he'd make a good guidance counselor. Then… Toots!

I chaotically rush to the doorway, bumping into every small furnished corner and tripping over every scattered bra on the floor. I don't remember the room being so dirty, but I focus myself on finding my adoptive grandparent.

The hazy living room shows no signs of life, and as I check every closet and door for any other signs of life I am disappointed. My heart races now and I can't help but feel utterly alone.

A stinging sensation enters my eyes, and as I try to blink back the moistness I find my eyelids are dry as dust. I find my way to the kitchen and sprinkle sink water into my eyes, hoping to moisten them from their overuse. My vision slowly sharpens and my headache eases until I can appropriately glower at my surroundings. The kitchen, for once, is organized and clean, as well as the living room, which I see through the doorway. I think of the oddity of our room being completely filthy compared to the rest of the house. Toots isn't here.

I no longer feel frustrated or scared, but a weird feeling creeps up to the pit of my stomach and I feel the need to sit down and rock back and forth. I've seen crazy people do this before, and I'm sure I've seen Vincent Van Gogh do this too, but I try my best to remain sane and standing. My fingers twitch wildly. I can't help but wonder the reason why I feel so emotionally insecure.

I suddenly hear a loud 'thump', distracting my anxious thoughts startlingly. I turn hesitantly until I can make out the figure in front of me.

"What the hell are you doing?"

My mouth stutters for the first time as Cleo glares daggers into my eyes. I want to hug her, to be happy for another living being, but after I adjust to the facts that it's fucking _Cleopatra_ I just want to throw up. I effortlessly gain the strength to return the stare.

"Did you even hear me?" she says.

I think, then shrug. "Your voice is even shallower than your personality. You're going to have to speak up."

I want to give myself a small applaud when I realize I've still got it in me. Her face shows disgust and anger, but it quickly melts to just annoyance and she continues what she was saying.

"What are you doing in here? Didn't you get the memo? We have an assembly this morning so we can all figure out what the hell is going on." My look gives off the question 'so what are you doing here?', and I'm pleased that she picks this up so I don't have to say it aloud. "Mom told me this morning, but everyone has to be there, idiot, before they can start. I wrote you a note on the door."

"I couldn't see that good when I woke up, what makes you think I'm going to catch a flimsy post-it and be able to read it?"

"Well I took the time to write it, you should be flattered. I'm leaving now, so you'd better be at the school quickly."

"And for once you go to school to actually learn something."

I walk past her and make my way to the bedroom, kicking everything out of my way until I reach the small drawer I was given to store my clothes. My simple green pants and black shirt is folded neatly beside my prom dress and several other forms of attire, but I look around for something different.

A grey, lace-marbled shirt catches my eye, as well as some fitted skinny jeans. As I try them on I realized the top hangs over my shoulders, and gently flows into a neatly trimmed end just above my belly button. I don't remember where I got it from, probably some 'condolatory' charity Cleo started up for me, but I leave it and slip my boots on, heading out the door.

I make my way outside with ease. The streets are empty save for a few passing cars, and I no longer feel the need to break down and cry. Toots is probably already at the school, although knowing him, I'm not so sure. Cleo is gone and I'm kind of glad, but she took the car with her and I miserably start my walk.

After a short while of walking, my jeans are too tight. My legs start aching and my head gets heavy. A thin line of salty sweat rolls down my forehead and I can only sigh at how frail I must have become over the large amount of time I had without physical activity. I shake the feeling off and continue, quickly adding 'working out' to my mental to-do list.

Some minutes later a car pulls over and the driver's window rolls down. "Do you want a ride, cutie?"

I want to flinch in disgust at the name but I don't want to scare away my only chance at a carpool, so I climb into the back seat without catching the strangers face. The air conditioner is on and I quietly sigh at the cool touch before I can stop myself. He stays there for a while until I can manage to put my seat belt on, then he accelerates and all I can hear is the sound of the motor.

I'm surprised that no one I've seen so far has had the emotional trauma I went through at the house, but I suspect they'd had their foster parents explain to them the news. Mine could've at least waited for me.

"So… how's it going?"

The question comes out of nowhere and I forget how to respond, but I manage to pull off a halfhearted 'okay'. I tug on my shirt so it covers my stomach. I used to be so social, but now I just feel awkward and shy at the thought of conversation. He reaches his hand back and lays it on my knee. My face twists in repulsion and my hand closes in to a fist as I ever-so-harshly punch it off.

"You know it's disgusting to be touched by someone you don't like," I snarl at him, trying to meet his eyes in the mirror. Sensing this as an amusing game, though, he brakes and flips the mirror upwards, all so I couldn't see him. The boy lets out a light laugh when I unbuckle my seat belt.

"You've always been a little tough to get, but it's… err… attractive." His shoulders rotate and his face meets mine with a humored but cocky smile. "And I thought you liked me, at least a little."

I settle myself back down when I realize it's JFK. I'm shocked that I hadn't sensed it earlier. I felt brain-dead when his voice echoed in my ears with that completely careless accent… but still, how had I missed it?

He turns himself around again and holds his full attention to the road. My leg bounces and my fingertips make a rhythm on the armrest of the door. He doesn't expect me to respond, and I'm not exactly up for a conversation of any kind right now, but I can only imagine what knowledge I'll gain at the assembly… I suspect I'll have to explain a few things while I'm there, too. The sound system scares me as it abruptly turns on, louder than expected, but I smile as I see JFK stumble, flipping through techno-sex and American classics gone wrong. Finally he presses FM and allows the first station that comes on to play. The song is new to me, but towards the middle of the song JFK catches up to the rhythm and hums along.

Looking out the window speeds up time and in just a few minutes we were parked in front of the legendary _(but secretive)_ Clone High. The door is opened for me and JFK civilly leads me inside. I struggle through politeness to separate from him, but I fail miserably. People will surely question, and if not stare, at us being together. It may have been anticipated, forgettable at prom for some, but now it is strange and people would want answers.

My hands are sweating and I look at him for reassurance. Would Abe be mad? I've yet to explain to him anything of the situation. JFK feels my eyes watching into his and smiles at me, but I still don't feel comfortable.

The gymnasium is up ahead and the chaotic chatter can be heard easily. We must be the last ones to show up. Sensing my reluctance, he holds my back and gently leads me inside. I don't remember him ever being so polite with me. I'm relieved to see everyone's eyes drawn to the principal for once… not on me, and we easily take our seats on the bleachers. Looking around I see a mixture of parents, students, and teachers. I don't see anyone I know specifically, but as Mr. Butlertron counts those hundreds of heads and shoots a look of approval to Scudworth, I know that Toots must already be here, as well as Abe and Gandhi.

"Ahem!" the microphone echoes. Everything precipitously goes silent. Our crazy principal, for some oddity, no longer sounds so crazy anymore. Even from a distance I can tell that the bags under his eyes are gone. "Now you all must have many questions about what may have happened at a specific point of prom. If you quiet down I'll be happy to inform you."

I groaned at my hypothesis. You could hear a pin drop in this silence. This man may not be so crazy, but he sure as hell is just as ignorant as before.

"Thank you. Perhaps I should get my point across to you all first. Ever since this school was built, we have had certain government problems. As you may know, you are clones of some of the most memorable people of the world, making you very valuable. The school district and government agency each had different… plans for you all, but now, as I'm pleased to say, that burden has been lifted…

I apologize for any problems, but we'll get into further detail about that issue later. Now most of you may be curious of what's happened since prom. You were… put simply, preserved in ice. Private research facilities had the knowledge to revive life in your bodies, as you were all their creations in the first place, but sadly, other cases did not make it out so well. They will be forever in our hearts, but today is a day of moving on. I know this may be odd for all of you, but I welcome you to a new decade."

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

_I'm a bit late, aren't I? I'm sorry for making you wait so long, I've been a bit busy. Also, I've realized how many errors my first two chapters held and it did take a while to fix them. For this chapter I'm sure there'll be even more. I'll try to get a Beta Reader soon, it'll give me much more help. Thank you for staying tuned. Comment, Favorite, Support! I'll update soon :)_


	3. Foreign Grounds

**Chapter 3**

I wake up in the same outfit as yesterday. It's still early, but I approach the dresser to change into cleaner clothes. Pale, bleached jeans and a black and white raglan top slide onto my body with ease. Cleo snores lightly and I'm sure to slam the door as I leave the room.

My mind is groggy, forcing and straining to stick to morning routine. I pour the first cereal that comes to view, an unhealthy and high fructose meal of frosted flakes, and leisurely eat until I'm done. Everything seems normal, almost rehearsed. It's not what I'd expect on the first day of school. I brush my teeth and wash my face before applying a generous amount of makeup to my face. Pleased at the outcome, I take my empty schoolbag and walk out the door. The sun is barely showing at the horizon, but I walk to school anyways.

My legs feel better than yesterday, yet occasional breezes that cover me in goosebumps almost make me wish someone would drive up and ask if I needed a ride again. The thought vanishes as soon as I pass Abe's house.

I'd forgotten about Abe for a while, I notice, but somewhere in my mind I wish I can for just a bit longer. I still haven't had the chance to speak with him, not since he told me- almost told me- that he loved me. The topic would somehow bring itself up in conversation if I talked to him… Then how would I respond?

I give a small groan in frustration before realizing I was in the Clone High's parking lot. I notice that for the first time in ages it's been cleaned, re-paved, and even painted. It's almost laughable, but I repeat to myself that it would be just one of the many signs of change on these grounds.

The sun has risen enough to create a long shadow over the school building. I'm warmed a bit, nonetheless, but I continue my stroll towards the doors, ready to be my punctual self for school. I grasp the cold, metal handles and pull casually on the door, jerking back by a failed attempt. Push, perhaps? I don't remember the door opening with a push from the outside but I give it a try anyway. The door makes no attempt in moving.

I'm locked out.

I curse at myself for not checking the time before leaving the house, the time that would've given me the memo that I am too early. The sun says differently, though. It has to be at least seven. I try to pry open the doors again with little progress. Defeated and pissed, I slump against the wall and let gravity take over until I'm sitting tiredly on the ground. A heavy sigh escapes through my lips.

"Joan, is that you?"

The voice makes me jump, jerking me upwards from my slouched position. "Huh?"

Scudworth laughs, making me flinch as I recognize it's the same laugh he'd voiced so many times before to express his insanity. Ten years ago. Could this man really have changed? "Oh Joan, a bit early, are you? Just don't let it happen again, it's embarrassing for me, you know." He laughs again and orders Mr. Butlertron to unlock the front doors. He's taller, more updated as far as a robot could go. I mumble an apology and express a small 'hello' to the machine fit to be our school counselor.

"So, 'Of Arc, what brings you so here early anyway?"

"I… woke up early and walked to school, that's all. Do you know what time it is?"

The principal glances at his watch quickly before answering me. "Half past six." I shoot a surprised glance at him, wondering how the sun could be up so high at such an early time. "Perhaps I should've explained. It's spring now, so earlier mornings. I guess it's my fault for not waiting for September to start a new school year but I wanted you out of the ice and back to normal as soon as possible."

"Why?" I quickly close my hand over my mouth, cursing at myself for sounding so suspicious. Of course, he'd have to have a reason to free us, wouldn't he? "Sorry, curiosity has gotten the better of me lately."

He shot me a slightly wrinkled smile. "Curiosity killed the dog, you know."

I muster up a lighthearted laugh, even though the saying is completely wrong. He holds the door open for me to go inside, Mr. Butlertron waiting from within the school, but I am too untrusting of everyone. "I'll wait outside for all the other students." I imagine how silly that sounds, considering class doesn't start 'til eight, but he shrugs and lets the door close behind him.

Once several other students arrive I make my way into the school to the office to receive my schedule. Such rapidity during the first day of a new year is unusual, but I suspect only because the sooner we're all back on schedule, the sooner we get over prom night.

Homeroom is empty, save for my furry sheep teacher who's asleep on the desk, but I find it a perfect opportunity to choose exactly where I want to sit.

Last year I sat next to Abe.

I shake my head, trying to erase the thoughts, but good memories keep surfacing on how much fun we had together in school. I look around and find a cozy corner in the back, just next to the window. It isn't like me, considering I was a straight-A student just a decade ago, yet I feel the need to be isolated from my old self for a while. At least until I have a better grasp of reality.

I lay my head on the desk for a while. Soon footsteps sound, papers crumble, teenagers talk among themselves. Through a gap in my arm I can see Cleo walking in and all the noise stops. She smiles and, with the newfound attention, is sure to swing her hips back and forth as she finds her seat at the center of the classroom. There's a sickly humor about how things never really change.

No one sits beside me. In fact, I'm the only one in the back row. I can't say the entire class is actually here yet, however I see that whoever shows up here at the latest will have the burden of sitting near me. I smile widely when I see Gandhi arrive, one of the few who wouldn't mind it. He pays no mind to me, though, and assembles towards the front next to an empty desk, placing his bag on it to assure no one else sits there. I can only guess it's for his best friend. I'm a bit relieved, though, knowing that Abe won't be sitting anywhere nearby me with Gandhi around.

I remind myself that my intentions are to be secluded from everyone. In this corner, no one is supposed to sit next to me. Who would want to? I move my neck so I'm staring out the window. It's peaceful like this.

Several more footsteps tread inside and the familiar "Bahahh" echoes through the room and I know that our teacher's awake and ready to start. He goes on about how the year is going to be, what we need. His voice sounds coarser now. Some students ask questions, most of them stupid ones, but he answers them all best as possible.

"Am I still sixteen?"

"Why's your fur look yellow?"

I'm interested in the questions as well, needless to say. I keep my ears open for anything more.

"Mr. Sheepman, how do you know if you hate someone?"

My eyes widen at the voice, recognizing the voice I used to so dearly love. Abe. That Lincoln boy has guts. Adrenaline pumps through my veins and it's difficult to hide the anger, sadness. He's talking about me, isn't he? He hates me now? Why, because I slept with Kennedy? I want to scream, break the window down and cry in the middle of nowhere.

"Well, that's a bit off topic, isn't it?"

The class, though, shoots yells of encouragement towards Mr. Sheepman to answer the question. Several eyes turn in my direction knowingly and I try to erase myself from sight by masking my face with my fingers. Embarrassment.

He gives a moment of silence and the drama-hungry class looks towards their homeroom teacher in amusement, giggling.

"Ah… Well would you mind specifying, perhaps? Or you can visit the guidance counc-"

"I don't feel very comfortable with doing that. What do you feel, though, when you hate someone?"

"Shy boy, aren't you?" he laughs, finally easing towards the conversation topic. "Well I suppose anger or pain. Like I think they should die." Any murmuring or noises that were in the room are now gone. I force myself to look forward, astonished by his answer as well. He gives a nervous glance around before continuing. "Well, I can't say I personally hate someone so much that I wish they would die, but… oh, I don't know! You just know that you hate them."

The back of Abe's head leans forward briefly for a nod. It's the first I've actively seen from him in years. It doesn't bring me any delight, though, even after all that time I spent only seeing his frozen, desperate expression.

I raise my hand, asking to go to the bathroom. I don't return.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_

_I'm a bit late, aren't I? I'm sorry for making you wait so long, I've been a bit busy. Also, I've realized how many errors my first two chapters held and it did take a while to fix them. For this chapter I'm sure there'll be even more. I'll try to get a Beta Reader soon, it'll give me much more help. Thank you for staying tuned. Comment, Favorite, Support! I'll update soon :)_


	4. Hate, Hope

**Chapter 4**

"Is that all?"

I give a short nod at the pharmacy's cashier, giving him a handful of money to sort out before taking the bag and leaving. I don't stop when he calls out to me, telling me that I'm short about seven dollars. I'll pay them back later.

To say the least, I am a bit surprised that most of the stores around our school still stand tall, especially considering the decade-long time span that high school students weren't around to waste their allowances for. It's comforting, though, the familiarities. All the roads have the same names; the faces of my fellow classmates are the same… It's as if the world has just been on pause.

My bag knocks against my leg as I keep my quick pace, cautious of how CC's Pharmacy may respond to my leaving. Surely they'd let it go, I only bought about about twenty dollars worth of things. I sigh, lolling my head back exhaustedly before taking the sharp right that leads to the entrance of my home. One car sits firmly in the driveway, but I just shrug and open the front door. Neither of my foster parents should care too much of my absence from school.

As expected, Toots walks right past me with a brief wave as I make my way up to my room. I smile sadly at the new wrinkles and burdens that time placed on the old man's shoulders. I say nothing, though, thinking it better to keep moving, in case he gets too suspicious and asks questions. For all he knows, I'm Cleo's drunk foster mom. I feel bad just thinking so less of him. He's smarter than most people'd think, but he confused me with so many other people and nonliving items before… that I know better than to think he'd catch on.

Continuing on my way, I open the doors to the recognizable pink room I share with Cleo, walls smothered in pictures of the Egyptian brat that looked as if they belonged in a playboy magazine. I groan when I see the pile of last night's homework on the bureau, so kindly collected by Miss. Popularity herself for me. Closing in, I notice the sloppy handwritten note lying on top of it, most likely from my homeroom teacher. I read slowly, sure to catch every chicken scratch-written word.

_April 29, 2013_

_Joan Of Arc, this is your fifth absent day from the school, all without calling out sick or even informing the office at all. I've taken the situation lightly the first few days you've skipped due to prom night- which left the school board very sensitive, I must say. Any more lack of presence here, though, and I __WILL__ set up a conference with your foster parent(s). _

I find myself scoffing at the mention of prom night. Maybe if it wasn't mentioned so much it wouldn't be such a sensitive topic, and it's not like that's the reason why I haven't been going to classes… I skim through the remains of the paragraph.

_If you're having any troubles, feel free to seek out the school's counselor. Either way, though, I do hope it won't come to me having to set up a nice parent-teacher meeting; perhaps they have some answers on your disappearances from school. Signed, Principal Scudworth. **Oh yes! And please thank Miss Cleopatra for bringing your homew-_

My mouth shaped into a line and I stop reading for good, crumbling the yellow note and tossing it to the floor. Of course, even in my disciplinary notes people have the ability to praise the perfection of the little drama bitch. I rotate a purple spinny-chair around, one of my favorite furnishings in this stupid room, and fall into it as if I trust it with my life.

The hell of a life I'd been sure to screw up badly as I could.

Suddenly, my spine straightens in panic, my eyes wide in fear. Shit, shit, shit, shit!

That pile of homework was given to me yesterday. The note is already a day old… Shit! My brain processes the threats written specifically on that yellow paper, and I dive wildly on the floor to confirm my stressing thoughts. With a trembling finger I reread. '_I __WILL__ set up a conference meeting with your foster parent(s).'_

My brain does back flips, a headache forming, and I silently curse at myself for my reckless behavior. Toots wouldn't be mad, would he? He's easygoing, friendly. Maybe… if I came in today would they let me off the hook? Only be given a late slip? My thoughts are interrupted when I hear the phone ringing. I'm frozen as ice.

"Hello?" I hear Toots greet happily from downstairs.. "Oh, you want to talk to Joanie? She's not here right now, if you want I can tell her after scho-"

Before I have the chance to think I sprint down the stairs and take off into the daylight, my soul purpose in life to get to school. It goes against my rebellious persona, I know, but a small part of my brain, I realize, simply hates getting in trouble. It's a short run and before I know it I'm breaking through the school's _pull _doors and scampering towards the office.

"Ah… hi," I greet the lovely old lady, currently printing what seemed to be tests on the oversized copying machine. She looks towards me with a warm smile and waddles her round, petite form to the desk.

"Yes?" she asks in a sweet voice.

"Eh, I'd like to inform the office that I'm a bit late today."

Her expression remains the same, but there's a spark of amusement written on her face. "Of course. I'll mark you down, sweetie, what's your name?"

It is obvious that she wasn't working at the school before, I haven't seen her once. I announce my name about four times, due to her lack of hearing, before she writes a quick memo to give to my teacher and sees me off.

I turn and smile back at her; really she seems like a kind old woman. Once she's out of sight, I rest my overstretched cheeks and turn around.

"Joan!"

Before I know it, I'm running into what seemed to be a brick wall. My butt crashes to the floor, red hair flying wildly until meeting angrily with the lockers. My head aches terribly. The impact sends vibrations up my spine; I cringe, growling at the pain. A hand oh-so-kindly reaches down on me from the person who'd somehow caught me off balance. I grab for it graciously, though, glad they hadn't stumbled a bit and walked away, just to leave me sitting there.

"You okay?" says the obviously male voice as I dust myself off, ignoring the sting running through my body.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"I told you I'm fine," I snap, looking up to meet his face. Damnit.

Abe.

"We need to talk, Joan."

My hands start to shake in anger at the roller coaster of emotions he is. First he loves me, then he hates me… now he wants to talk? I struggle to take deep and steady breaths, sure that my face was a pissed off shade of red. I scowl up at him. "I don't want to talk to you."

I don't understand his calm composure, even less on how he speaks so nonchalantly. "You've been avoiding me."

"No I haven't."

He picks up his fallen cell phone, inspecting it for cracks that may have damaged its surface. "Then why weren't you coming to school?"

"As you can see, Abe, I am currently in school." I respond dryly. "Now let me get to class, I don't want to talk to you." My patience is slowly departing from my frustrated conscious, at least the angry side of it, but I know that a part of me does want to talk to him, sort everything out.

"I called your house, they said you weren't there."

"Because I'm here, Abe. Not wanting to talk to you." Before he can respond I shove past him, walking speedily towards my last class of the day.

I don't hear footsteps behind me, and when I turn around he's not so much as in sight. I sigh bitterly. He didn't want to sort anything out with me. He was confronting me. That asshole.

Glancing at the printed number _'213'_, I heave open the pale green doors and find myself standing in front of about thirty wide-eyed students, looking up at the person who harshly opened their classroom door. I roll my eyes, gently pushing it shut before making my way to the only empty desk, placed firmly in the middle of everyone.

"Glad to see you could make it, Miss 'Of Arc."

"Glad to be here," I crack, plopping myself into the cold, metal chair.

The teacher glared at me, her greenish eyes boring holes into my dark ones. "See me for detention."

"Of course, Ms. Debulla."

* * *

I glance at the clock for about the millionth time. 4:12.

_Damn it, Joan, don't look at the clock._

The same time stands boastfully plastered, laughing at me as I hope for freedom. Ms. Debulla. I find myself hating her for keeping me here, even though I'd been fairly neutral with her in my sophomore year. I hate her for stuffing me in this smelly room, filled with the bozos that dared get on her bad side. I hate her for the silence she made us fall into.

I think I hate that part the most.

It reminds me of the chilly quietness of the meat locker, my being forced to stare at the hopeless face of my best friend. I was naked in a room filled with the remaining student body. Exposed. In front of Abe.

My stomach churns at the thought of him, a wave of nausea waving through me. I just want his name to go away, where I can never hear it again, _think_ it again. But he won't have it that way. He fucking _called_ my house. Ran into me in the hallway. He could've easily moved, but persisted he stand in my way when I wasn't paying attention. I think I hate him, too.

My eyes meet my third enemy of the year. 4:26.

Four more minutes. Then I'm home free.

A paper airplane crashes into the back of my head, and I turn to glare at whoever dared to piss me off. The three boys behind me look around nonchalantly, as if nothing had even happened, and the only girl, sitting two seats beside me, looks as clueless as my eyes had left her the first time.

"'Of Arc, turn around. There is no talking in my detention!"

From under my desk, I flip her off.

Ms. Debulla looks back down at her book, turning the volume up on her smooth jazz so much that we could hear it through her earphones. Two of the three boys in back of me snicker lightly, humored by me getting in trouble. Dickheads. One leans up to tap me on the shoulder, but my anger gets the best of me. I grab his outstretched hand and pull, sending him flying forward.

They howl in laughter.

"Armstrong, what are you doing on the floor?!" yells Ms. Debulla, standing so she could appear more threatening. The earphones fall on the desk.

"Yeah Neil, what are you doing on the floor?" one of the boys behind me mocked.

He stutters, wavering his hands around the floor wildly until they find the artfully crafted paper plane. "I uh…I wanted to… I was getti… I dropped my paper plane."

"You shouldn't have paper planes in _my_ detention! Give it to me, _now_."

I shrink back into my chair, not wanting to get involved. Armstrong, though, has a sign of panic going across him featured. "I… uh…" He turns around, looking as if he were pleading the other boys to do something to help him out. What was the big deal about giving her the stupid airplane? One of them points at the clock.

4:30.

The teacher catches this, looking to where the imbecile could possibly be looking at. She sighs, motioning her hands to the door. "You're excused."

I stand thankfully, rushing out of the classroom as fast as I can and following the other detention kids out of the school. A hand suddenly stops me, though, and the doors close in front of me.

"Joan?"

I turn around, meeting Neil Armstrong's eyes as he lets go of me arm. "What? I want to go home."

"Sorry," he responds, but he doesn't seem too sincere about it. "I just wanted you to have this. I'm sorry about hitting you with it; I expected it to go a lot smoother than how it did." He holds out the crisp airplane, folded from a looseleaf and covered in words. "Can you just read it?"

I took the gift awkwardly, unraveling the creases to reveal a note. "Um, sure, but after than I'm going home, so…"

"No, don't read it now! That'll be weird for me, it would've been better for you to read it in detention."

I look at Neil oddly. "I'm not getting another detention just to read your note."

"That's not what I meant. I mean you can read it at home or something, in class or whatever. Just not-"

"You gave it to me, Neil, it's my choice to decide when and where I read it," I glare, but I hold back my tongue when I see his confidence draining once again. I'm not ever one to pick on the little guy.

"Sorry, I understand. You read it whenever, I'm going to leave now anyways. Sorry… for fussing about it."

I nod, watching him as he walks out of the school. My curiosity peaks once he's out of view; I read the neatly printed handwriting before happily venturing home.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_**

_Yay! Another late chapter :). I made this one longer for you all, and included two dramatic[?] encounters (The second one was originally supposed to be for chapter 5). To make it up to you all, I'll be posting another 2 chapters this week. Another note: I'm still looking for a beta reader for this, so please criticize gently on any silly mistakes you might see throughout this. Thank ya's!_


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